Nasty Little Buggers
by Goggle Girl
Summary: During Harry's first Quidditch match, Oliver Wood ends up in the hospital with amnesia after being hit with a bludger. Now it's up to the Weasley twins to help Oliver get his memory back.
1. Amnesia

Author's Notes: Okay, I've had this idea for a story in the back of my mind ever since I saw the Harry Potter movie. When Oliver tells Harry he was knocked out in his very first Quidditch match, the gears in my head started to crank and when he was knocked out by Marcus Flint in the match, they just started spinning faster. And here came the idea! Now, what if Oliver got amnesia from that hit to the head during Harry's first Quidditch match? What if Oliver didn't know who he was or where he was? Now what if Fred and George decided to take it upon themselves to "help" Oliver get his memory back? I hope you all like this, and I'm glad I'm finally getting this fic down. So enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and the events taking place in the Quidditch match are courtesy of the people at Warner Bros. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter One: Amnesia  
  
Harry Potter clutched his broom nervously as he made his way towards the Quidditch pitch. He stood behind the gates, waiting for his very first Quidditch match against Slytherin to begin. He was deathly nervous. He had only just learned what Quidditch was a week ago and had been given the most crucial position on the team; the Seeker. What if he made a fool of himself? What if he fell of his broom? What if he was really bad? All this hype about his Seeker skills had spread across the school like wildfire. Harry wished people were a little better at keeping secrets…  
  
Oliver Wood looked down at the small, quivering boy next to him. Harry looked like he was about to faint. Oliver had to do something to try and calm his nerves. He didn't want his new Seeker going out there terrified, how would he focus on catching the Snitch?  
  
"Scared, Harry?" he asked.  
  
"A little," came the response, as Harry shrugged, trying to mask his obvious terror.  
  
"I felt the same way before my first game," Oliver said, hoping it would make the first year feel better. Harry looked a little calmer. Oliver smiled, maybe it had worked.  
  
"What happened?" Oh no, thought Oliver. The question… He had hoped Harry wouldn't have asked him about it, but seeing as keeping silent wouldn't help the kid, Oliver complied.  
  
"Uh… I don't really remember," admitted Oliver, trying to find some nice way of explaining his nasty run in with a bludger. "I took a bludger to the head two minutes in. Woke up in hospital a week later." Oliver grinned sheepishly. Harry looked downright horrified. That wasn't quite what he had expected him to say.  
  
Then the doors opened. Before Harry could say anything, Oliver had mounted his broom and had flown out onto the pitch, followed by the rest of the team. Harry joined them and began a few warm up laps around the pitch. He was relieved the find that the sensation of flying seemed to calm his nerves. He felt a little less queasy as he hovered above Oliver and Angelina in the center circle waiting for Madam Hooch to release the balls.  
  
Up went the Bludgers and the Snitch. Harry tried to mark the Snitch, but it hovered around his and the Slytherin Seeker's heads and then disappeared. Hooch blew her whistle and the Quaffle was tossed into the air. Harry shot up, as a mass of green and scarlet blurs all raced to get their hands on the round red ball.  
  
Harry didn't know quite what to do. He thought it best to just hover around the pitch above everyone and look out for the Snitch. He couldn't help but watch the rest of the game at the same time too though.  
  
"Angelina Johnson scores! Ten points for Gryffindor!" cheered Lee Jordan, the game's commentator.  
  
Harry cheered along with the rest of the crowd but was nearly knocked off his broom as a Bludger came racing towards him. Harry rolled over and the Bludger missed him, with one of the Weasley twins in pursuit.  
  
Harry watched as Marcus Flint came streaking up the pitch, the Quaffle tucked tightly under his arm. He was a rather foul player, sending a swift kick towards Alicia Spinnet as she tried to take the Quaffle away from him. But Wood was there to stop Flint and grinning mockingly at Flint, tossed the Quaffle to Katie Bell. Harry smirked, at the seething look on Flint's face. But still no Snitch.  
  
The score was 20-0 for Gryffindor when Harry had to dodge out of Montague's way as he came racing towards the Gryffindor end. Wood was there just in time to catch the Quaffle and stop Slytherin from scoring. But Flint had had enough. He grabbed the Beater's bat from Derrick and cracked a bludger towards Oliver. Oliver wasn't paying attention to Marcus and didn't see the black orb until it was too late.  
  
CRACK! The Bludger hit Oliver in the head, making him see stars. He tumbled backwards through the hoop he had been guarding and slumped forwards onto his broomstick. Harry saw it as if in slow motion, as Oliver fell to the ground landing sprawled out in the sandy border. The crowd gasped and booed as the Slytherins cheered and laughed. Harry glared at Flint, who sneered back before flying off in search of the Quaffle.  
  
Hooch never called a foul for some reason. Harry didn't know why. Oliver had explained some of the fouls to Harry and Hermione had gotten him to read "Quidditch Through the Ages". Even with the odds against them with their goal hoops wide open, Gryffindor still managed to win.  
  
The team basked in their victory for a short period of time before racing off to the hospital wing where their captain had been taken. It took much convincing for Madam Pomphrey to let them in, but they managed to push their way in and over to Oliver's bed.  
  
He was out cold with a nasty looking bruise over his right eye. Harry seemed to be the only one who could feel the irony of this situation. The Chasers looked worried but Fred and George seemed to be acting like this was a weekly occurrence.  
  
"He's going to be okay, right Madam?" asked Katie anxiously.  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," replied the matron. "Just a little bump on the head. He should be up in about a week or so. This isn't the first time it's happened. When will that boy learn to keep himself out of trouble?"  
  
The girls didn't look impressed. Fred and George were trying to suppress laughter. They obviously knew about Oliver's past experiences with Bludgers. Of course, then again, Fred and George never took anything seriously.  
  
Days went by and Oliver still wasn't awake yet. Fred and George kept making cracks about how if this kept up, Oliver wouldn't have any brain cells left by the time he was twenty. Percy, who happened to be one of Oliver's best friends, kept telling them to shut up. Even Angelina and Alicia were beginning to tire of the twins' teasing.  
  
"You know, you ought to be a little nicer to the guy," lectured Angelina to them at lunch one day. "What's he ever done to you?"  
  
"He's a good captain and a nice guy," added Alicia. "And all you two ever do is put him down!"  
  
"Wow, we're only kidding, girls!" protested Fred. "We don't actually mean anything we say!"  
  
"Well you don't show it," sniffed Angelina.  
  
"What do you thinks gotten into them?" asked George as the twins left the Great Hall.  
  
"I dunno," shrugged Fred. "But maybe we should pay our 'dear' captain a visit."  
  
The twins trekked up the staircase to the hospital wing. Madam Pomphrey looked a little suspicious about the two of them wanting to visit but allowed them in just the same.  
  
"So, Oliver, how're you doing?" asked Fred.  
  
"Smashing day, isn't it?" added George. No response. "Say, Fred, don't you think this is a bit pointless? I mean, it's not like we can carry on a conversation with him. He's out cold… still."  
  
"So then why are we here?" asked Fred.  
  
"Good point," said George. "I say we go. I'm sure the Slytherins could use a few dungbombs right about now."  
  
They got up to leave but stopped when they heard Oliver give a low groan. The twins turned around and saw Oliver blink and stare up at them with blank brown eyes.  
  
"Oliver, you're awake?"  
  
"Welcome back, mate!"  
  
"What…?" asked Oliver, confused.  
  
"You'll be glad to know Gryffindor won the match," said George.  
  
"Gryffindor…?"  
  
"Yeah, Harry Potter's a really great Seeker," added Fred. "You made a great find."  
  
"Harry…?"  
  
"Yeah, is any of this registering inside that thick skull of yours?" teased Fred.  
  
"Hold on, Fred," said George, peering at Oliver. Oliver stared blankly back. "What's my name?"  
  
"I don't know…" answered Oliver. "Why? Am I supposed to?"  
  
"He could never tell us apart anyways, George," said Fred.  
  
"Fine, have it your way," said George. "Okay, new question. Who are you?"  
  
Oliver sat up and thought for a minute… and another minute… Fred sighed exasperatedly. He knew Oliver wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but it wasn't THAT hard of a question. Finally, the feeble answer came. "I don't know… I can't remember it…"  
  
The twins paused. Oliver had amnesia! He didn't remember a thing! They felt sorry at first but then… two equally sly grins crept across the Weasley twins' faces. This could work to their advantage…  
  
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So what do you think for the first chapter? Let me know what you think about this story by leaving a review! 


	2. My New Best Friends and a Schizo

Author's Note: Here's the second chapter up. Now that I've gotten things started, I think it should be very easy to let the REALLY good comedic things happen. Oh right, and if you're a fan of Percy, PLEASE don't get offended! And trust me, I love Oliver Wood too, he's my favourite character from the books and has always been since I first started reading them years ago! I just couldn't resist doing this when I saw the Harry Potter movie… so if you want to blame anyone for the idea, blame Sean… or the script writers, but not me! ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter Two: My New Best Friends and a Schizo  
  
Fred grinned at George. Most people usually felt sorry for a person who had lost their memory, but sympathy was the last emotion going through the twins' heads. After all, it was Oliver Wood, the obsessive captain who had been responsible for many painful evenings and early mornings with his intense Quidditch practices. They had been thinking up a plan of revenge for Oliver and while their original plan of placing fire ants in his bed when he was asleep was tantalizing, this opportunity couldn't have been better.  
  
"Do I know you?" The twins snapped out of their scheming dazes and turned their attention back to Oliver. The boy was still sitting up in bed with a lost expression on his face. Almost like when someone called on him to answer a question in Muggle Studies.  
  
"Sorry, mate," said George, "how could we have been so rude?"  
  
"We just assumed you would remember your BEST friends," added Fred.  
  
"My best friends?" repeated Oliver.  
  
"Blimey, that's some echo in this room," said Fred. "Doesn't sound a thing like me though."  
  
"Yeah, BUDDY, your best friends," continued George. "Since what? First year, maybe?"  
  
"We've been worried sick about you," said Fred.  
  
"You have?" asked Oliver.  
  
"That's right, but we'll have time to play twenty questions later," said George, pulling back Oliver's sheets.  
  
Fred grabbed Oliver by the arm. "Quick, before the matron comes."  
  
They had to quietly sneak Oliver out of the hospital wing before Madam Pomphrey came back. If she found him up and awake but with no memory, Oliver would never be allowed to leave. The twins weren't prepared to let this golden opportunity slip through their fingers.  
  
"I still don't know your names!" Oliver protested but still following the twins down the corridor like a lost puppy… a very big lost puppy.  
  
"I'm Fred, this is George," said Fred, hastily gesturing towards his brother. "Don't bother trying to tell us apart because you never can."  
  
"You are Oliver, remember that because if you forget your name you'll be officially dumber than you look," grinned George.  
  
Oliver blinked dumbly. He didn't want to leave the hospital wing. To admit the truth, he was scared. Scared that he didn't know where he was… scared that he didn't know who he was… even more afraid that he didn't know how he got where he was.  
  
"Caput draconis!" shouted the twins to a picture of a rather obese woman in a large pink dress. Oliver stared in shock as the woman in the portrait smiled… she could move! Then the painting swung forwards to reveal a hole in the wall just large enough for someone to climb through. Fred and George climbed inside, Oliver reluctantly followed.  
  
"Better cover up, dearie!" called back the Fat Lady. "That hospital gown can be a bit revealing!"  
  
"D-d-did she just…?" stuttered Oliver, blushing as he clutched the back of his "revealing" gown.  
  
"Did she just what?" asked Fred.  
  
"Talk…"  
  
"Oh, yeah, she did," said Fred. "Does that a lot, REALLY chatty, that one."  
  
Oliver blinked. This place was scary. The paintings talked. What next? Furniture with a mind of its own?  
  
"Oliver, relax a little," said George. "You should be used to this kind of stuff. It's perfectly normal."  
  
"It is?"  
  
"Yes! It is!" The twins hadn't noticed how loud they had gotten. Several heads turned in their direction. Fred wished the common room hadn't been full of people but, it was better than taking Oliver down to the Great Hall.  
  
"Oliver, might I ask just what is it you're doing in that ridiculous get up?" Percy Weasley had come over, his prefect badge glinting on his robes.  
  
"My ridiculous get up?" repeated Oliver. "Look at you! What are you supposed to be? A wizard?"  
  
Percy paused, staring at Oliver. He frowned. "Considering it's a wizarding school, yes. Stop being an idiot, Oliver."  
  
Oliver laughed. "That's the dumbest thing I've heard all day!" Percy walked off in a huff. Oliver turned to the twins. "Who was that loon?"  
  
"Loon is right," nodded George. "That's Percy, you want to watch out for him. He's not quite right in the head."  
  
"He suffers from acute schizophrenia," added Fred. "I'd be wary around him if I were you. Especially since you two share a dormitory."  
  
Oliver paled. His roommate was a schizo? Suddenly, being back in the hospital wing seemed like the greatest thing in the world to him… Fred and George led Oliver towards one of the staircases. He followed them up into one of the rooms.  
  
"You might want to get some proper clothes on before we introduce you to everyone," said Fred. "The Fat Lady was right-"  
  
"-that gown IS revealing."  
  
Oliver blushed again as the twins left the room. He looked down at the trunk by his feet. The letters O.W were stenciled on the trunk. That must be his, Oliver started with an "O"… but what did the "W" stand for…?  
  
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So what do you think? Review and let me know. Expect the next chapter hopefully within a few days, I've got a few ideas I need to sort out. In the next chapter, Oliver will meet new people and discover "horrific" revelations that will probably change his life… gotta love the twins for it! 


	3. Father!?!

Author's Note: I posted this up a couple days ago but it seems fanfiction lost it when the server went down again. Hopefully it'll work again. Expect updates to both columns soon, I've just got a few other things to do at the moment.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter Three: Father?!?  
  
Oliver re emerged from his room a short while later, clad in khakis and a black turtle neck. Fred and George were sitting at the bottom of the stairs whispering about something. Before he could get close enough to hear, however, the twins spotted him and stood up grinning.  
  
"What do you say we take a tour of the grounds?" suggested George. "We'll show you the sights and everything."  
  
"Shouldn't I just stay here? Maybe I should try remembering who I am," said Oliver.  
  
"You're name is Oliver, we told you who you are already!" exclaimed Fred. "Besides," he quickly added, "you wouldn't want to hang around here by yourself in case Percy comes back."  
  
Oliver had to admit. He'd be better off in the company of his best friends than alone with a maniac. Still… he had a feeling that none of this was right… that Fred and George weren't who they seemed to be.  
  
The twins took Oliver outside the castle onto the grounds. They had been discussing earlier where to take him. A journey into the Forbidden Forest had been proposed and the two votes were unanimous. However, as they crossed the grounds Oliver stopped, staring off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, gazing at it in wonder.  
  
"Oh, that's where people play Quidditch," said Fred. "Not much to see there, let's move on. Now the forest-"  
  
"Wait, I want to go check it out," said Oliver. He didn't know what it was, but the pitch seemed to be beckoning to him. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but something inside him told him it was great and he HAD to go there.  
  
"There's no games today, it'll just be a waste of time," protested George. But Oliver wasn't listening and had begun to make his way over the pitch.  
  
Fred sighed. "He lost his memory and we STILL can't keep him away from Quidditch!"  
  
The pitch wasn't empty like George had implied. Several emerald blurs were zipping around the pitch. Oliver caught glimpses of a red ball being tossed from the blurs every once in a while. It looked like fun. Oliver had the sudden urge to be up there with them. He wanted to fly too.  
  
"Oi! Wood! Get out of here!" Oliver looked around. Who was Wood? The players had stopped their practice and had landed on the ground. They had been riding broomsticks. Oliver didn't know brooms could fly. One of the players, a large and burly boy with jet black hair was making his way over to Oliver.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," apologized Oliver. "You can go back to… whatever you were doing."  
  
"We've got the pitch booked, Wood," barked the boy. Oliver noticed the boy had crooked buck teeth, and the way his ears stuck out made him look rather dumb. "So clear off! We don't spy on YOUR practices!"  
  
"Bugger off, I'm not spying on anyone," said Oliver. He felt a strong dislike for this boy.  
  
"There you are, Oliver!" Fred and George appeared at Oliver's side. "Just go back to tossing your Quaffle, Flint, no one cares."  
  
"Oliver doesn't need to spy on your team," sneered George. "He's not looking for strategies on how to lose."  
  
Flint glared at the twins before turning back to his team. "Expect to hear from Professor Snape about this."  
  
The twins lead Oliver away from the pitch and back towards the direction of the forest. Oliver kept looking back at the pitch where the Slytherins had gone back to practice.  
  
"Who was that?" asked Oliver.  
  
"Who was what?"  
  
"That trollish bloke back there," said Oliver, "he called me Wood."  
  
"Yeah, that's Marcus Flint," said Fred. "He's part troll on his dad's side. He keeps a stash of human and animal parts in his room in case he gets hungry. You two aren't exactly the greatest of friends… which is a good thing probably." Fred paused. "And congratulations, you now know your last name."  
  
"And Snape?"  
  
Fred and George looked at Oliver and then fell silent. They looked almost solemn like someone had died.  
  
"Well?" asked Oliver. "Who is he?"  
  
"Gee, Oliver, we wish we weren't the ones to get you to remember this," began George slowly. "You just seemed so happy not knowing…"  
  
"Not knowing what?"  
  
"You see that tall man making his way across the grounds?" asked George, pointing.  
  
Oliver followed George's hand. A tall and thin man was crossing the grounds from the castle to the pitch. He had pale, sallow skin and a hooked nose. His long, black, greasy hair fell down to his shoulders making him look like death on two legs. His billowing black robes didn't help his image. "What about him?"  
  
"That's Professor Snape," explained Fred, "the Potions Master. He's… well… how do we put this gently…?"  
  
"He's what?" pressed Oliver. "Just tell me!"  
  
"He's your father, Wood," sighed George, his face full of phony remorse.  
  
"What?!" Oliver looked shocked. "That's impossible! We look nothing like each other!"  
  
"You got your mum's genes," supplied Fred.  
  
"But my last name isn't Snape," pointed out Oliver. "Nice try, guys."  
  
"He disowned you," insisted George. "You don't live with him. That's why we didn't want to tell you. A bit of a nasty part of your past."  
  
Oliver stared blankly at the twins. He couldn't believe it. He father had disowned him? But why? And how could it be true? They had to be playing a joke. But Fred and George looked so serious… Oliver thought they looked brutally honest. If only he knew the truth…  
  
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This chapter's a little short but the next one will hopefully make up for it. Enjoy and leave a review to let me know what you think of it! 


	4. Coping With Life and Love

Author's Notes: Here's the next chapter in the story. This one's a bit longer than the last but I guess that's because a lot more happens in this story. So enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter Four: Coping with Life and Love  
  
A seriously subdued Oliver Wood made his way back towards Gryffindor tower. Fred and George had promised to bring back some food from dinner. They had told him to avoid crowded places but hadn't told Oliver why. Oliver had decided he didn't WANT to know why, after discovering his awful parentage news he just wanted to sleep it all off. This day had turned out to be more than he had bargained for. Unfortunately, before he could doze off, there was a loud crash and Fred and George came charging into the dormitory, arms laden down with cakes, pasties, juice, chicken, and potatoes.  
  
"Hungry?" they asked.  
  
"No not really," Oliver replied, rolling over. Maybe they'd get the hint and leave. Not likely…  
  
"Oh, we get it," replied Fred. "Hey, cheer up. We told Cassandra about your problem."  
  
"Who?" asked Oliver.  
  
"Pity, you've forgotten the good things along with the bad things…" sighed Fred.  
  
"Cassandra Bletchey is Keeper for Slytherin," explained George, "and your girlfriend for three years."  
  
"Girlfriend?"  
  
"Yes, girlfriend," continued Fred. "She was quite concerned about you and so we set up a date for you two tonight."  
  
"But I'd rather just…" began Oliver.  
  
"Of course you can't go out looking like that!" exclaimed George. "Which is why we've hired three beauties to help you out."  
  
The twins stepped aside and Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell came into the room, grinning. Oliver had the horrible feeling that he wasn't going to find this pleasant. The twins left the room, leaving Oliver alone with the three girls.  
  
"So the big man's got a date tonight," mused Alicia. "Well you certainly can't expect to impress a girl looking like that!"  
  
"What's wrong with how I look?" asked Oliver.  
  
"Ollie, you look like you spent the entire day face down in the mud!" insisted Angelina. "You can't go looking like a deadbeat!"  
  
"But I just want to-"  
  
"We'll take you to the prefect's bathroom, Penelope gave us the password," interrupted Katie. "We'll have you looking like a yummy piece of man in no time!"  
  
Despite Oliver's cries of protest, the three girls dragged him out the dormitory and up a few floors to the prefect's bathroom. Oliver paused in the doorway for a minute. The entire room was nicely polished and sparkled. A large bath was placed in the middle with gold taps. Bottles of shampoo and different scented body washes and perfumed bubbles were lined up against the wall. Hanging on the wall by the bath was a painting of a mermaid posing elegantly on a rock. She winked and waved shyly at Oliver as he entered the room.  
  
"Roses or lavender?" asked Katie, holding up two bottles of perfume. "Any preference or should we decide?"  
  
"Uh-"  
  
"We'll use both!" smiled Katie, opening up the bottles and smelling the perfume. Oliver had the feeling by the time they were done with him, he'd probably end up smelling like some old woman's garden.  
  
Angelina bent down and began to run warm water into the bath. Oliver hoped the girls would leave him in piece after this. Like outside the door, where they couldn't see him bathing.  
  
"Alicia, should we put bubbles in?" asked Angelina.  
  
"Definitely!"  
  
"There, Ollie, the bath's ready!" called Angelina.  
  
Oliver didn't move. "Uh… thanks, you can leave now."  
  
"Leave?" they chorused sadly.  
  
"Yes, leave," nodded Oliver. "As in you move… out the door."  
"But we're helping you," protested Alicia.  
  
"Well do you expect me to strip down in front of you?" asked Oliver incredulously. All three girls blushed and turned around. "DON'T peek."  
  
Careful to make sure no one saw him, Oliver removed his clothes and carefully slipped into the bath. "Okay, you can turn around now."  
  
"Hmmmmmmmmm," mused Katie, looking at the many bottles of shampoo. "What do you girls think? Jasmine and sage?"  
  
"Smells lovely," agreed Alicia. "Okay, Ollie, use this."  
  
She handed the bottle over to Oliver. "Do you have to watch me do this?"  
  
"Why not?" asked Angelina. "Is there some desperate secret about you that we shouldn't know?"  
  
"No, it's just I don't really know you that well and I'M SITTING NAKED IN A BATH!!! Don't you think I deserve a LITTLE privacy?!"  
  
Pouting, the girls left the room. Oliver sighed, sinking lower into the bath. There were a lot of crazy people at this school… his mind began to drift as the mermaid in the painting began to sing a sweet enchanting song.  
  
"OLIVER!!!" Yelping in surprise, Oliver fell on his back in the bath. He sat up, spluttering. He groaned… the girls were back.  
"What?" he coughed.  
  
"Blimey, we leave you for a few minutes and all you do is nearly drown," sighed Katie.  
  
"If you hadn't startled me-"  
  
"Look, hurry up," interrupted Angelina. "We still have to pick out some nice clothes for you and you're going to be late!"  
  
"Okay, I'm coming…" The girls left the bathroom once again, and Oliver climbed out of the bath, toweling himself off. He looked around the room. He didn't feel like letting the girls pick out something for him. He'd just wear his normal clothes.  
  
"Ugh, what are you doing wearing those?" gasped Alicia, when Oliver emerged from the bathroom.  
  
"What? I happen to like these clothes," replied Oliver.  
  
The other girls shook their heads in pity but Katie complied. "Well the shirt DOES give a hint to your figure…"  
  
"Glad you're satisfied," grumbled Oliver, heading back up towards Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Where are you going?" called Angelina. "The trophy room's the other way! Cassandra's waiting for you there!"  
  
Sighing, Oliver turned around and headed back, past the three girls, and off down the corridor. Well, it couldn't be that bad, he supposed. After all, an evening with his girlfriend. Maybe she'd help him to remember things… like where the trophy room WAS for starters…  
  
Oliver eventually found his way towards the trophy room. By that time, the sun had set and the castle was growing dark. *I never should have listened to that ghost,* thought Oliver, *all he did was lead me to a doorless room...* Oliver paused in the doorway when he heard hushed whispers coming from inside the room.  
  
It sounded like a boy and a girl… a rather giggly girl. Cautiously, Oliver peeked his head around the corner. He could just barely make out the shadowy shapes of a boy and girl, snogging by one of the cases.  
  
Oliver stared. He recognized the tall shape and the goofy ears. It was Marcus Flint, the trollish boy he had met earlier. And with him was… Cassandra? Why…? Unless… Marcus was sweetening her up for his next meal…  
  
*Are you going to stand here staring all evening, or go and get back your girlfriend, mate?* Oliver debated with himself whether or not he should act. After all, Flint looked a little intimidating but then again… it was his girlfriend…  
  
"Marcus, keep your hands out of there!" hissed Cassandra.  
  
"Oh come on," coaxed Flint.  
  
"No, I'd prefer to keep my shirt on tonight," she whispered. "Marcus!"  
  
"Hey!" Oliver had decided he should no longer remain silent. He stepped out of the shadows and stood glaring at Marcus.  
  
"Wood?!" the two Slytherins chorused in mingled surprise and disgust.  
  
"Clear off, we're busy here," snarled Marcus.  
  
"Actually, I was just about to leave," muttered Cassandra, pushing Flint away from her.  
  
"Now look what you've done, Wood," sneered Marcus. "Your presence has gone and put her off."  
  
"I think it's more of the fact that you look even more hideous in the moonlight than you do in the sun," retorted Oliver. "Now bugger off, I believe I have a date now."  
  
"With who? The Grey Lady?" asked Marcus. "Because there seems to be no one else here."  
  
"With the elegant lady you've been putting your grimy hands all over," replied Oliver.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Cassandra?!"  
  
The two Slytherins were speechless. Cassandra looked revolted, Marcus was seething with fury. "I'll teach you to stay away from my girl!"  
  
"I'm not your girl, Marcus," said Cassandra, "but you should kick his arse anyway."  
  
"What? But-" began Oliver, suddenly very confused.  
  
Flint dived at Oliver, knocking him backwards onto the floor. The two boys rolled across the floor in a tangle of fists. Oliver may have been built but Flint was too, and a year older, giving him the upper hand. Cassandra couldn't see what was going on, but was more worried about the noise the two boys were making. If Filch decided to show up…  
  
It wasn't long before the fight was over. Flint got to his feet, brushing off his robes. Oliver remained on the ground, crumpled up and breathing heavily. Flint grabbed Oliver by his collar and lifted him to his feet. Oliver grimaced in pain. Even though Oliver looked worse for wear, he had succeeded in giving Flint a bleeding nose.  
  
"Well, Marcus, you taught the little Gryffindor a lesson, now come on let's go," Cassandra said.  
  
"I'm not through with the git yet," sneered Flint. "Let's lock him up somewhere so he can't interrupt us again."  
  
"Honestly, do you always have to do something stupid to prove your point?" asked Cassandra. "We KNOW Wood's an idiot and you 'taught him a lesson' for… interrupting your adventure but just leave him alone and come on! I don't fancy getting caught by that ruddy caretaker again!"  
  
Flint said nothing, but pushed Cassandra aside, dragging Oliver behind him. Oliver didn't protest much, or move much for that matter. Sighing, Cassandra followed, hoping no one would notice the blood stains on the floor from where the boys had fought. Flint dragged Oliver down the stone steps, Oliver letting out a soft groan every time his head hit the stone. No one seemed to be around and so Flint dragged Oliver into the Quidditch change rooms without getting stopped by anyone.  
  
"Say, Wood, what's your favourite Quidditch team?" asked Marcus casually.  
  
"I don't know…" Oliver managed to croak.  
  
"I'm a Ballycastle fan myself," said Marcus. "Barty's a rather neat little mascot, don't you think?" Oliver shrugged, painfully. Marcus smirked, pulling out his wand. "Do you know what Barty is?"  
  
"No."  
  
"He's a-"  
  
"Marcus, don't try to transfigure him! You're only going to end up killing him by mistake!" interrupted Cassandra, standing in the doorway.  
  
"I'm not going to transfigure him," said Marcus. "Gawd, Bletchey, what's with you?"  
  
"Then what ARE you going to do?" asked Cassandra, quietly.  
  
"Just help the guy up," shrugged Marcus. He muttered a few words and chords shot out of the wand, wrapping themselves around Oliver. Then the chords began to creep up the wall and attached themselves to an overhead plank. "Now you can just wait here. Maybe this will give you time to think about interrupting someone when they're busy next time."  
  
Oliver glared at Flint who turned and left the room. *Barty must have been a bat…* thought Oliver, *now how do I get down?* Oliver didn't know how long he managed to stay alert and awake, hanging there. He was tired and hurt, and the ropes were uncomfortably tight. And all the blood rushing to his head was giving him a headache.  
  
"Well, Oliver, I think you learned a valuable lesson today," he sighed…  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
That's it for this chapter. I'm still working on the next one, so it might be a few days before I update this again. But hopefully, this is enough to keep you all entertained for a few days. Drop a review, and let me know what you think! 


	5. Poor Ickle Ollie

Author's Notes: After two months of nothing I've finally got another chapter ready for you. Sorry it took so long but I really just had to do a little connecting to get the rest of the story going. So it really shouldn't be another two months before the next chapter. Although I can't guarantee when you'll get more as I leave next week on holiday... again. But enough of that, I'm sure you'd rather just get on with reading.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
Chapter Five: Poor Ickle Ollie  
  
Fred and George were quite surprised when Oliver didn't return later that evening. They hadn't expected Oliver to REALLY hang out long with Bletchey… the two hated each other. Or so they had thought. Then again, maybe they had finally set the captain up with a girl, a task everyone had thought to be impossible. So when Oliver still wasn't back for breakfast, the twins assumed he had been busy with her all night.  
  
What they didn't know was that Oliver was still tied up in the Quidditch locker rooms, hanging upside down from the ceiling thanks to Flint. He had long ago passed out from the blood rushing to his head… and exhaustion from keeping awake all that time trying to get someone to hear his calls.  
  
Luckily, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had practice that day. So shortly after breakfast, Oliver was discovered… by the all too pompous Roger Davies.  
  
"Bloody hell, Wood, just what are you doing?" the Ravenclaw captain cried, upon entering the room.  
  
Oliver snapped awake. "Thank the Almighty someone decided to come in!"  
  
Roger untied the ropes and let Oliver crash to the floor with a thud. "Now, I know you're not quite right in the head but… just WHY were you pretending to be a bat?"  
  
"I wasn't pretending to be a bat!" snapped Oliver.  
  
"Oh you weren't?" smirked Roger. "Then just what were you doing? Is this how you prepare for a Quidditch match?"  
  
"No, I don't even know what Quidditch is… and I certainly don't play it," said Oliver, brushing himself off. As he left the locker rooms, he failed to notice the shocked look on Roger's face. Oliver Wood, not playing Quidditch? There was something wrong with that.  
  
Oliver was welcomed into the castle by an enchanting aroma wafting down the corridor. As his stomach gave a rather loud growl, Oliver realized just how hungry he really was. He wandered down the hall, following the smell until he came to a large hall that seemed to open up to the sky. There were a few people scattered at the four tables, still picking at the remnants of what looked liked a large breakfast feast. Fred and George had told Oliver to avoid crowded places… but he was so hungry… and the hall wasn't crowded, no one would notice him, right?  
  
Oliver decided to go inside, the temptation of food was too much for him to bear. He spotted Fred and George at one of the table and went over to sit next to them. He was lucky to find an empty seat in between the twins and a small dark haired boy with glasses.  
  
"Rough night?" asked Fred.  
  
"You have no idea," sighed Oliver, reaching for a plate of bacon.  
  
"I'll bet it was fun though," said George.  
  
"Fun? Fun?!" Oliver glared at the twins. "If you call being beaten and hung from the ceiling fun, then it was a WONDERFUL night!"  
  
Fred and George blinked. What was he talking about? "Care to explain what happened?"  
  
Oliver told the twins all about walking in on Bletchey and Flint. How Flint had attacked him and hung him from the roof of the Quidditch locker room until he had been found this morning.  
  
Oliver suddenly had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that this had all been some sort of a set up. There was something not right about the twins. "Cassandra never was my girlfriend, was she?"  
  
"We don't know what you're talking about," said Fred. "Of course she was your girlfriend!"  
  
"Although we always knew she fancied Flint," continued George. "I guess that's what comes from trusting a Slytherin, Oliver."  
  
Oliver noticed the three younger children next to him laughing. He highly doubted this situation was funny in the least bit. So what were they on about?  
  
"What's so funny?" asked Oliver.  
  
"Just the fact that you're actually believing what my brothers are telling you," replied a freckle faced, red haired boy.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Oliver. Fred and George were glaring at the boy behind his back.  
  
"Oh come off it, boys," lectured the bushy haired girl. "How you've gotten away with this so far is beyond me but don't you think you aught to tell Oliver the truth?"  
  
"What truth?" asked Oliver.  
  
"There's nothing to tell," snapped Fred. "Now pipe down, you're going to confuse him."  
  
"He's already confused!" said the red head. "He thinks you two are his best friends."  
  
"But aren't they-?" asked Oliver.  
  
"We are his best friends," insisted George. "Don't go putting ideas into his head."  
  
The boy laughed. "The next thing we know, you'll be telling him Snape's his father."  
  
Oliver stared at him. Fred and George grinned. The twins younger brother's eyes went wide and his friends were forced to contain their laughter. The bespectacled boy began to cough. The girl did not look pleased.  
  
"You two are so mean!" she said.  
  
"Oh shove off, Hermione," dismissed George. "We're not doing any harm."  
  
The twins continued to argue with Hermione about Oliver. Oliver just sat there, trying to make sense out of all of this. The twins were lying to him… no they were telling the truth… no it was all a lie… no it was the truth… well what was it? The truth or just a bunch of lies? Oliver didn't know who to believe. And all of this was giving him a headache.  
  
"You should tell him the truth!"  
  
"We have!"  
  
"No, you're just messing with his head!"  
  
"Are not!"  
  
"Stop being so childish!"  
  
"Who are you? McGonagall?"  
  
"Knock it off!" The arguing stopped. Oliver stood up from the table. "I can't take this! I still haven't got my memory back and you lot AREN'T HELPING!!!" Oliver sighed, rubbing his temples. He had a ringing in his ears. "I need some air…"  
  
Oliver turned around and left the hall. The twins sighed. The idiot first year had to ruin their fun. No matter, as long as they found Oliver after things wouldn't change… they hoped.  
  
Oliver, meanwhile, had decided to make his way over to the only place he felt comfortable; the Quidditch pitch. He still didn't know why but something about that place seemed welcoming. He wanted to just be alone to think right now…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Well that's it. Sorry if this chapter wasn't really humorous in your point of view but it WAS necessary for other things. Just be thankful I updated, k? Kewl. 


	6. Hogwarts, We Have a Problem

Author's Notes: See? I didn't keep you all waiting long this time with another update. Things in this story were going slow but I do believe they will now begin to pick up once again(even if I can see an end in sight). Sorry that the first part of this chapter isn't incredibly funny, in fact it's a little sad(well I feel bad for Oliver) but just wait. The humor returns(at least it should, I dunno). So enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: All characters respectively belong to J.K Rowling, etc, etc. Any "original" characters which may appear in this story as just random people in the background however, ARE my creations. Not that that's important though.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
Chapter Five: Hogwarts, We Have a Problem  
  
Oliver sat in the dirt border which lined the Quidditch pitch, lost in his own confusing thoughts. What was it about this stadium that made him want to come here? It looked like a sports arena; the grass was a lush green and looked to be tended regularly. The one thing that didn't look right though were the three hoops on poles that stood towering on each end of the pitch. They rose what looked to be nearly fifty feet in the air, taller than the spectator towers.  
  
Something about this place made him feel calm. Maybe it was the fact that it was deserted and he could just be alone, but no, that didn't seem it. The twins hadn't mentioned much about this place but people he had run into here seemed to gawk at him when he asked exactly what went on.  
  
When Oliver had arrived at the pitch, the people in green robes had been circling around it, passing a red ball back and forth to each other. He recognized Marcus and Cassandra. Neither of them had seemed to notice him or care that he was around. Oliver preferred it that way. He didn't want to find himself upside down in the locker room again.  
  
"Oi, Wood! What are you doing sitting in the dirt?" Oliver started and looked around. A couple of the players had come back for the wooden chest they had left behind. Oliver recognized one of them as Cassandra.  
  
"Probably testing for the right practicing conditions for their next match," muttered Cassandra. "Adrian, will you stop teasing him and help?"  
  
"I can help with that if you want," offered Oliver, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.  
  
"No, we've got it," replied Adrian. "Go back to your pitch study."  
  
"No, honestly, I can-"  
  
"Relax," interrupted Adrian. "We've carried this before, we're not going to hurt your precious Quidditch balls."  
  
"Quidditch balls?" repeated Oliver. "Is that what you've got in there?"  
  
"No, they're dragon eggs." Cassandra rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well make up your mind," said Oliver. "Are they balls or eggs?"  
  
"Was that supposed to be funny?" asked Adrian.  
  
"No."  
  
"I thought not…"  
  
"I just thought I'd help out."  
  
"Like you did last night?" smirked Cassandra. Oliver blushed. "Look, I have a bit of respect for you standing up to Marcus because it means chivalry isn't all dead… but I think you should mind your own business next time."  
  
"Well, it's just that-" began Oliver.  
  
"Wood, go back to your dirt," said Adrian, as him and Cassandra headed for the locker room.  
  
Oliver sat down again. He sighed, falling backwards and staring up at the sky. Well that pretty much proved it… the twins had been lying about Cassandra Bletchey. Did that mean they could still be trusted? Of course it did, they were his best friends! Or were they…? Oliver was starting to have his own doubts about that…  
  
***  
  
"Hey, boys, I think we have a bit of a problem," Alicia Spinnet announced, entering the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"What's got you worried now?" asked George, looking up from the game of Exploding Snap he had been playing with Fred.  
  
"We play Ravenclaw in a few days," said Alicia.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well does Oliver know what Quidditch is?" asked Alicia.  
  
"Blimey, no," laughed Fred. "It's been great not having to listen to him go on and on about it!"  
  
Alicia stared at the twins. Slowly it dawned on them. Oliver didn't know anything about Quidditch or flying for that matter. They had no captain… and they had no Keeper.  
  
"You wouldn't have this problem if you had left him in the hospital wing," lectured Hermione, looking up from her book by the fire.  
  
"The first year is right," agreed Alicia. "You boys have a problem to fix."  
  
"What?" asked Fred.  
  
"Oliver needs to be taught Quidditch," said Alicia. "And you've only got three days to get him back."  
  
"But why do we have to do it?" asked George.  
  
"Because you're his 'best friends' and you owe it to him," Alicia said. "It's your fault he's like this."  
  
"Actually, that's Flint's fault-" George began.  
  
"I mean, if you hadn't gone telling him all this stuff, he might be better by now. So go get teaching!"  
  
Fred and George exchanged glances. So now they had to attempt to teach Oliver Quidditch… how did you explain to an idiot a complicated game played on broomsticks? Especially when Oliver didn't even know this was a school for witchcraft. It looked like the twins had to try and pull off a miracle…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That's it for this chapter. Hope you liked, now tell me by reviewing! lol 


	7. Where's Wood?

Author's Notes: I know, I know, I know, it's been nearly forever since I last updated this story. Well, I'll tell you why. I've taken on too many responsibilities, plain and simple. I've spent way too much time on the SBMB and ended up committing to moderating duties inside the chat room. Plus managing a website, school work, studying for my driver's test (which I've yet to take even though I turned 16 in March and it's now May) and having to work on another fic with a bunch of other people which can get very demanding at times. but it's worth the effort. I don't plan on letting you all hang for another half a year or something on this story, really, I don't. Once again, I'm sorry it took so long but you can't rush creativity.  
  
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and related items are the property of J.K. Rowling, not me.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter Six: Where's Wood!?  
  
Oliver sat in the sand barrier of the pitch for what seemed like eternity, reflecting in his mind everything that had happened to him. He knew the supposed "date" with his "girlfriend" had been a set up by the twins. That much was for certain but what bothered him now was the fact that if the twins had been lying about Cassandra what else had they lied about?  
  
*If only I could remember anything,* thought Oliver exasperatedly. *Then I could figure this all out.*  
  
Doubt began freshly creeping into his mind. Was Percy really a schizophrenic? Well. come to think of it, he was quite odd. The twins could be right there. Marcus Flint also did look like quite the troll but if he ate people they wouldn't allow him to attend the school. would they?  
  
"Maybe I should talk to my father." mused Oliver, remembering the sallow skinned, hook nosed, greasy haired man the twins had pointed out to him. Then again. if they were lying to him again. that older man hadn't looked like the sort of person you would want to confront as a long lost father.  
  
So what was he to do? Everyone he passed by in the halls gave him queer looks. Whenever he spotted a professor coming closer, the twins would usher him off down a side passage so he wouldn't be seen.  
  
"There are no answers for me here, that's for sure," said Oliver, getting to his feet. "And sitting in this dirt isn't helping me either." He brushed off his pants and headed for the exit. "There has to be someone around here who I can talk to!"  
  
* * *  
  
Fred and George had spent their entire afternoon coming up with a lesson plan for Oliver, with help of course, from the girls who had stood, peering over their shoulders to keep them on task.  
  
"This is slave labour!" Fred complained loudly, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment and throwing it into the ever growing trash heap.  
  
"You broke him so fix him," Angelina reminded Fred, sending him back to work with a stern look.  
  
"We're not teachers, girls," sighed George, putting the last touches on what he hoped was a working lesson plan the girls would approve of. "We don't know how to do this."  
  
"You can't expect Oliver to just believe everything we tell him," put in Fred.  
  
"Well so far he has," replied Katie. "Poor guy."  
  
The other girls nodded in sympathetic agreement as Fred and George hunched over their parchment more, pretending not to care. Oliver wasn't THAT bad off. The girls were just over exaggerating.  
  
"All right, how's this?" asked George, finally holding up the parchment. Alicia took it and read over, the other two girls reading over her shoulder.  
  
"You know, when you two want to you can be quite smart," commented Angelina. "Why don't you do it more often?"  
  
"We don't want our reputation ruined," grinned Fred, snatching back the parchment. Smiling, the twins walked up the stairs to the fifth year boys' dormitory to fetch Oliver. They met Percy on their way up.  
  
"He isn't up there," he said, "which is probably a good thing. Hopefully, one of the teachers found him and brought him back to the hospital wing." He shot the twins a stern look. "Just wait until McGonnagal finds out what you two did."  
  
"McGonnagal doesn't scare us," scoffed George. "We've gotten on her bad side lots of times."  
  
As Percy passed by them down the staircase, Fred furrowed his brow in thought. If Oliver wasn't upstairs in the dormitory then where could he be? Knowing his state, he could be anywhere. That meant he was in danger of being found by a teacher. And if a teacher found him. well, that wasn't good for the twins.  
  
"George, if Oliver isn't upstairs in his dormitory then where is he?"  
  
George paled, suddenly realizing what this meant. "He could be anywhere. And if we don't find him first-"  
  
"We're dead," finished Fred.  
  
The twins looked at each other and ran down the stair case and into the common room. They flew out the portrait hole, trampling poor Neville Longbottom on their way. They stopped only after they had taken two flights of stairs down; suddenly realizing they had no idea where they were going.  
  
"Should we split up and look for him?" asked Fred. "It's a big castle, he could be anywhere."  
  
George was about to agree, then a plan hit him. He grinned. "The map."  
  
"Of course!" exclaimed Fred, pulling the old tattered parchment out of his pocket.  
  
"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," chorused the twins, tapping the parchment with their wands.  
  
Fine ink lines began to slither their way across the paper until what looked to be a castle blue print had printed itself onto the paper. Little dots with miniscule labels moved around the map. Peeves was zooming around the trophy room while Snape sat in his office. Students wandered the corridors while some congregated outside in the evening air. It was the "Marauders' Map" as the elegant title revealed, and Fred and George had found it in Flich's office the previous year. They could see where everyone in the school was and could track anyone's movements. It was the quickest way to find Wood before anyone else did.  
  
But there was a slight problem. There was no tiny Oliver Wood dot anywhere on the map. The twins stared at the map, going over every square inch of the parchment, determined to find him. Eventually, they gave up, stuffing the map away. Oliver wasn't on the Marauder's Map, which meant only one thing. He had left the school grounds.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Well, after making you wait this long, you didn't think I'd let you all just smile and nod. I had to throw in some sort of a plot twist. Leave your reviews, it motivates me to write faster! :) 


	8. The Fates Hate Me!

Author's Notes: Again! I updated! All rejoice at my sudden erm... lack of laziness! Actually, to be honest I HAVE been very busy. Yes, the life of summer vacation is a busy one... sleeping in until noon... going to Canada's Wonderland with friends... yes, it's quite time consuming. Oh, right, and that other blasted fan fic which my partner writers and friends are demanding I look over, edit, add and spit back out at them. Plus, guess who got stuck with the art? I DID! Oh, right, and my sister wants me to burn her a Crambo CD (I love Professor Gregor!) which is VERY hard to find songs for... moderating chat (bloody spammer) and... I think that's about it. Yes, yes it is. I think I'm rambling here but this is the only time I actually get to talk in any of these stories so I need to do SOMETHING!!! Oh! I know! My OotP rant... HORRIBLE book. Well, I hated it. Death was traumatizing... gave me odd "nightmares" for a couple days. And the only thing I got out of it really was that if Dumbledore had SAID something to Harry in the beginning, books 1-4 never would have happened. Yep... so I finished the book in 2 1/2 days... went back to brooding over Warner Bros. deciding to cut out Oliver Wood, Cho Chang, and Marcus Flint (why I'm upset about that, I don't know!) and delving into my Matrix theories. I think I need a new hobby. I own the Matrix, the Matrix Revisited, and the Animatrix DVD... the book on the philosophy of the Matrix, conquered the game (ah! So fun!!!), ordering my sunglasses (what? I NEED a pair!), and saw the Matrix Reloaded (WORST. ENDING. EVER!!! DAMMIT!!!) By the way, if you haven't seen the Animatrix, WATCH IT! I heart that DVD, really I do. The Second Renaissance is my favourite movie short... so brilliant... anyway, since this note is about half a page all ready, I should probably just stop and let you get on with the story... even though I'm pretty sure you stopped reading this um... sentences ago. Peace, marf, and Gregor MacKay!  
  
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and related items are the property of J.K. Rowling, not me.  
  
Nasty Little Buggers  
  
Chapter Eight: The Fates Hate Me!  
  
"I don't believe it!" moaned Fred, staring down at the map in disbelief. "I didn't think he was THAT thick to go wandering off somewhere by himself!"  
  
"I guess we did mess him up pretty bad," said George, folding up the map and depositing it in his robes. He looked around... three floors below them was one of the entrances into Hogsmeade. It was the nearest settlement and hopefully Oliver was there... but it wasn't guaranteed. "If I was a bloke with no memory, where would I go?"  
  
"Um... anywhere?" Fred suggested.  
  
"No," answered George. "I'd go and find people who might be able to help me. And if there was no one around to help, I'd move on to another place with people... like the nearest village!" George grinned, pleased at his own sudden burst of intelligence.  
  
"Like Hogsmeade?"  
  
George frowned, thinking. The burst of intelligence had only been momentary. "Yes! Like Hogsmeade!" His grin returned. "Which there is a secret passage to three floors down!"  
  
"We can head him off if we run."  
  
The twins bolted down the nearest staircase at full speed, nearly tripping over their own robes in their hasty decent. Neville Longbottom was just coming out of the library with a stack of herbology books when the twin terrors raced by, trampeling him a second time and sending his books scattering. Fred and George were in too much of a hurry to notice.  
  
The two Gryffindors skidded to a halt in front of an ugly statue of a humped witch, muttered the password, and squeezed through the narrow passageway. The corridor was dark and cramped and seemed to go on forever.  
  
"Funny how I never noticed how long this route was," commented Fred lightly, stating the obvious. George didn't reply but sighed, relieved, when the tunnel began to slope upwards. They were almost there.  
  
George was out first, silently lifting the floor latch and climbing out into the basement of Honeyduke's. Stacks of boxes loomed ominously in the gloom, like irregularly shaped stalagmites in a candy shop cavern. The twins sat by the stair case leading up to the shop quietly, waiting for the shop keeper to come downstairs.  
  
They weren't waiting long when the sound of footsteps overhead could be heard. Sure enough, the door at the head of the rickety stairs was kicked open and the shop keeper headed into the cellar to pick up one of the boxes of chocolate frogs. When his back was turned, the twins scampered up the stairs and out into the lighted shop.  
  
They cast around Honeyduke's. No Oliver. Maybe they had beaten him to Hogsmeade...  
  
* * *  
  
Oliver had been walking down the narrow lane from Hogwarts when he felt something hit him in the head. He looked up. The sky had been overcast before but now it looked like rain. Grumbling how he should have brought a jacket or cloak he picked up his pace along the dampening path.  
  
What started out as a small spittle quickly came down as heavy rain. Not enough to completely drench someone, but enough to make people head for the indoors. Oliver however, was out in the open, with no coat or umbrella, grumbling at how rotten his luck seemed to be.  
  
Where he was going, he wasn't sure. All he knew was the castle wasn't giving him clear answers about anything so it was best for him to move on. Of course, so far he hadn't seen much but rocks and mud.  
  
SQUELCH!  
  
"Bugger..."  
  
Oliver looked down. He had stepped in some sort of a sink hole in the path and he was now up to his left ankle in thick brown mud. Sighing, he bent over and tugged at his leg to get it unstuck. It wouldn't move. Oliver glared down at his foot in furious blame and pulled again. With an odd sucking noise, his foot came loose. Oliver tumbled backwards, splattering into the muddy path.  
  
He swore loudly, getting to his feet. He NEVER should have left that hospital wing, or done ANYTHING the twins had told him to do. This. Was. All. Their. Fault.  
  
Oliver squelched onwards along the road, his dark mood hanging over him threateningly. He paused when he suddenly noticed small shops and buildings looming in the misty gloom up ahead. Finally... somewhere to get out of the rain...  
  
* * *  
  
"Bloody hell, why does it have to start raining now?!"  
  
The twins stood in the shelter of Honeyduke's doorway. They didn't want to go out and get wet looking for Oliver. What if they caught pneumonia? Or worse, what if their robes got muddy? Then they'd NEVER be able to hide the fact that they had been sneaking around off the grounds.  
  
But Oliver was somewhere out there and if they lost him they'd be in even more trouble. Not only would the entire fourth year and below hate them for life but when they were expelled for tampering with a recovering patient, their mother would kill them.  
  
Both twins seemed to agree with each other mentally that there was only one thing to do: get wet. Abandoning the dry shelter of the doorway, they went out into the street.  
  
"So, where to first?" asked Fred, looking up and down the street. The place wasn't busy. If Oliver was nearby they'd spot him easily.  
  
"Well, he liked the Quidditch pitch... maybe he's at the store." George shrugged.  
  
The twins made their way slowly towards the local Quality Quidditch Supplies, pausing to glance inside the other shops on their way. No sign of Oliver.  
  
Then, they saw him. A figure caked in mud was slouching towards them, peering cautiously at the buildings around him. He looked a bit filthy but there was no mistaking him.  
  
"Oi! Oliver, old chum!" Fred called down the street to him. He looked up, startled, saw who it was and turned around, hastily shuffling off towards the nearest building.  
  
"Hey! Hey! Oliver, wait up!"  
  
The twins squished through the mud over to where he was. They managed to grab his arm before he disappeared into the busy pub and pulled him back outside.  
  
"Not you two again," he sighed, "let go!"  
  
"Woah, wait a minute there!" grinned George. "What are you doing out here? And who trampled you? You're a mess!"  
  
"I tripped," came the reply. "Now bugger on off." He turned to leave. Fred stood in his way.  
  
"What's the matter, mate?" asked Fred. "Why'd you wander off? Everyone's been worried!"  
  
Oliver looked at Fred unimpressed. "I doubt it. I know why you two prats came after me. Without me you have no one to mess around with. No one to play head games with." Fred pretended to look hurt. "Oh don't pull that! You two have done nothing but lie to me since I... erm... met you!"  
  
Fred looked past Oliver at George. He was muddled and while Oliver obviously didn't know anything about himself he was beginning to catch on to their game. So what were they going to do? George winked. The answer was simple. The only way out was to keep lying.  
  
"All right, Oliver, you're right," admitted George solemnly, putting an arm around his shoulders. "We were wrong... a little bit. So we set you up with Cassandra who hates you and the very ground you walk on just like every other Slytherin. We just wanted to do something nice for you."  
  
"Frankly, Oliver, you suck with women," added Fred. "So we thought we'd help you along. After all... you're a Keeper... she's a Keeper..."  
  
"What's a Keeper?" cut in Oliver.  
  
"We were just getting to that!" George sighed. "Look, mate, we're really very sorry things didn't work out between you two... but we weren't lying about everything else."  
  
Fred grinned. "Yeah, Percy really is a loon and Snape's the father who never speaks to you."  
  
"So, with that behind us, why don't you come on back up to the castle before someone finds you and tries to take advantage of your condition." George winked. "Because we all know how horrible a thing that would be."  
  
Oliver looked at the two twins suspiciously. He shouldn't buy into their story, every instinct inside him told him not to trust them. But he did anyway. They were sorry, right? Besides, he didn't really want to be out here anyway. It was wet and he was muddy.  
  
"All right, fine," he sighed.  
  
"Excellent!" chorused the twins. "Now, we'll get you cleaned up and then explain this whole Keeper thing to you."  
  
"Quite important to do so," added George.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
I think this is coming close to a nice closing now... maybe only one or two chapters left. We'll see how I feel about it... 


End file.
